


False Alarm

by sabby1



Series: Station 69 AU [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Sex, F/M, Han Solo is dead, M/M, Minor Character Death, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 11:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15436575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabby1/pseuds/sabby1
Summary: Fire Station AU - Another night at the First Order. Hux thinks he's walking in on Ren cheating on him with the bartender. Except, he's got it wrong.





	False Alarm

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm sauced. Sorry for any and all mistakes you find in this. It was inspired by [lucifel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifel/pseuds/lucifel). I said I don't do (tw)incest, and I didn't totally lie.
> 
> This just kinda happened, I guess? It gets a little depressing in the middle, but the beginning and end are fun :)
> 
> I keep getting sucked into this AU and it's keeping me from doing the thing, I mean, writing Episode IX.
> 
> Enjoy, and please don't hesitate to give feedback. You know I'm gagging for it.
> 
> ###### 

Rey’s skinny legs are hooked around his waist, the heels of her Doc Martens digging into his ass. She clings to him like a monkey, her arms stronger than they look, and rides his cock like she was made for it. 

Ben can’t tear his eyes off those perky tits as they bounce up and down right in front of his face. They’re his favorite thing in the world. If she let him, he could spend hours just fondling them, sucking her pretty pink nipples into his mouth, licking and nipping at the soft skin while she squealed and wiggled in his lap. 

Her cunt clamps down on him like a silky wet vice and he groans into the sweaty skin at the juncture of her neck, sucking up that sugar and spice scent of her that makes him rock hard every time he thinks about it when he’s alone out on the road.

Fucking her is like coming home. It’s like cold beer on the front porch and warm apple pie with home made vanilla ice cream and the Eagles winning the Super Bowl. 

Even when they’ve got to make do with the last ten minutes of her thirty minute lunch break, rutting like animals against the back wall of the First Order less than fifty feet from a set of dumpsters.

Everything narrows down to her, and he couldn’t give a shit less about the rest of the world.

Until a cold hand clamps around his shoulder, strong, hard fingers digging sharply into the groove of his collar bone, and yanks him around. A fist impacts his nose, exploding bright, hot pain over his whole face before he has a chance to process what is happening.

“What the fuck?” he roars, red hot stars blinding his vision.

“Fucking asshole!” 

The voice is harsh, clipped, bitten off. Ben barely ducks under another fist and lashes out, landing a solid punch to the gut that connects with a dull thump and a breathless grunt.

The guy doubles over and Ren grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and the back of his belt and tosses him as far away from Rey and himself as he can manage with his vision blurred and his face throbbing with pain.

The guy, a tall red-head with more rage than sense, is not deterred. He wheels around and lunges toward Ben again.

“It’s not your boyfriend!” 

Rey’s screech is several octaves higher than he’s ever heard it, and Ben can’t do anything but watch as she puts herself in front of him, arms splayed wide like she’s going to stop a fucking six foot madman with nothing but sheer force of will. 

“It’s not Ren!” she shouts. “Look!”

She grabs his arm and Ben lets her, because right now he’s so fucking confused he doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do.

Rey twists his arm and pushes it forward, nearly pulling his shoulder out of the socket so she can show off the tattoo he got less than a month ago on the inside of his forearm. It’s a silly damn thing but he won’t regret it if he lives to be a hundred: a skull in front of a pink bow, wearing a baseball cap. 

The redhead grabs his wrist like a clutch clamp, licks the pad of a wide thumb. and drags it across the tattoo.

Ren jerks his arm free, and if it wasn’t for Rey standing between them, he would have knocked him the fuck out. Instead, he wipes his wet forearm across his shirt and glares at the insane motherfucker.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

The red-head looks dumbstruck, like he’s taken one too many hits on the head. His chest is heaving and he’s staring at Ben like he can’t make sense of what’s in front of his face. 

It’s only now that Ben notices the guy is wearing a uniform. His heart stops. He fucking punched a cop. He already sees himself back behind bars, on account of his previous offense, when he notices the words on the silver badge. Professional Firefighter. 

His breath leaves him in a whoosh as he puts his hands on his knees. If he’s lucky, he might get out of this with just a bloody nose and a near heart attack.

“Rey, mind explaining to me what’s going on?” he grumbles through a few more harsh breaths.

She nods and, bless her heart, wraps her arms around him like she’s gonna be able to hold him up if he buckles.

“Ben, this is Hux. Hux, this is Ben Solo. My boyfriend.” 

“Impossible.” 

The clipped, arrogant tone makes Ben feel that pinch in his back between the shoulder blades that makes him want to punch something, but then Rey’s small hand smooths over that same spot and her nails scritch across it until the tension disappears.

“Remember I told you about that guy who looks like you?” she asks gently.

“Yeah?”

He remembers joking about it, brushing it off, because what are the chances, really, that there is someone else out there that looks like him? His kind of goofy face doesn’t exactly scream average.

“Well, that’s the guy’s boyfriend.” She points at the red-head with a smile and a shrug.

“Oh.” 

Suddenly, it all makes sense. The guy thought he’d caught his boyfriend cheating and lost his shit. Ben can sympathize with that. He’s not sure how he’d react if he ever caught Rey with someone else. He’s sure he’d go back to prison afterward, though.

Ben wipes the blood off his nose and cleans his hand off on his jeans before he tucks himself back in and pulls up his zipper. He catches the red-head watching him with a look that he can’t quite place, but he knows he’s seen it on some of the guys he tried to stay away from in lockup. 

“I apologize,” the red-head, Hux, says stiffly.

Ben makes a non-committal noise in his throat and nods. He’s fucking pissed off that this guy has wasted his precious time with Rey. 

“Let me buy you a drink to make up for it.” 

He raises his brows and glances down at Rey. She nods like she’s telling him to go ahead.

“Okay,” he grumbles.

Hux startles like someone flicked him between the brows and says again, “Impossible,” under his breath this time.

“Whatever,” growls Ben before he wraps his arm around Rey and lifts her up into a kiss that is all tongue and dirty promises to finish what they started when she gets off her shift. 

She makes that happy squealing noise that causes the butterflies in his stomach to start a riot, and he really wishes she didn’t love her job so much so he could take her back to the motel right now and spend the rest of the night getting her to make that noise. 

Hux clears his throat. 

Ben’s starting to really not like the guy.

Back inside the bar, Rey serves them each a glass of beer and a shot of whisky. 

Left to their own devices while Rey takes care of other patrons, Ben can’t help but muster the guy who’s so casually draped over the barstool next to him. 

Hux is tall, maybe just an inch shy of Ben’s own height, and pretty fit. Of course, being a firefighter would take some muscle to get the job done. He’s pale, paler than Ben even, but he’s not covered in freckles like Rey.

Thinking of Rey’s freckles creates an uncomfortable pinch in his jeans, reminding him that he didn’t get to take the edge off before Hux interrupted them.

The man is still staring at Ben like he’s something out of Ripley’s Believe It or Not! 

“Come on, man,” he grumbles. “This is ridiculous.”

“You have no idea.” 

The low drawl combined with the heavy, lingering stare has an unexpected effect on Ben. He feels like he’s medium-rare steak on a platter and Hux is sharpening his knife and fork.

The door at the entrance bangs open, catching Ben’s attention. He watches himself walk in, fixated on Hux like there’s no one else worth looking at.

Seeing himself bend over and kiss another man – with tongue – like it’s an every day occurrence is the most surreal thing Ben’s ever experienced in his life. 

“Sorry I’m late.” 

He hears his voice coming out of his mouth wet with another dude’s spit less than five feet in front of him. 

“Fuck.”

There’s no other word in his head because he’s looking at himself with his arms wrapped around a dude who punched him in the face about ten minutes ago.

“What’s your prob— Fuck.”

His own eyes stare back at him like he’s been struck by lightning on the shitter.

“Yeah.”

Hux smirks. The expression is so damn smug the only thing saving him from a punch in the mouth is the fact he’s already getting a backhand to the solar plexus from Ben’s doppelganger.

Hux recovers astonishingly fast and raises his glass, introducing them with an arrogant gesture. “Ren, meet Ben. Ben, Ren.”

It’s like looking in a mirror when he cringes and his double pulls the same expression.

“Kylo Ren,” he introduces himself.

They shake hands, staring at each other, and Ben’s tempted to lift his left hand and wave it just to see if Ren’s going to mirror his movement.

“This is fucking weird,” he grumbles.

“Oh.” 

They both turn at the same time toward the source of the sound. 

Rey looks a little bit broken, eyes and mouth wide and round, as she stares at them from behind the bar.

They both utter the same huffing laugh and immediately narrow their eyes at each other in suspicion.

Ben cocks his head first. “You adopted?”

“Nope, you?”

“Nope.”

“Single parent?” Ren asks.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Mom or dad?” Ben asks.

“Mom, you?”

“Dad.” 

“Fuck,” they say at the same time. “No way.” 

Rey is the one who breaks out in pealing laughter, shaking her head as she points at them in hilarity and disbelief.

“Parent trap,” she manages to wheeze out between wracking guffaws, holding her belly. “Really?”

“One way to find out,” says Kylo Ren as he pulls his cell phone from his back pocket.

Ben reaches for his own before he remembers his dad is gone. His hand drops at his side, and he’s not sure what his face looks like when Ren’s long arm drapes over his shoulder and takes a picture of them together.

Ren sends the picture to his mother with a sardonic text message demanding an explanation. His phone rings less than a minute later.

Ben watches as the color drains from Kylo Ren’s face and he fails to absorb whatever the person on the other end is telling him. His hand that looks exactly like Ben’s moves and holds out the phone to him.

“She wants to talk to you.” 

Ben takes the phone and presses it to his ear, staring into the eyes of his alter ego.

“Hello?” 

“Ben, is that you?” The woman’s voice is warm, low, and a bit raspy. “I’m so, so sorry, Ben. We never meant to hurt you. Either of you. I’m sure if you talk to your dad…”

“He’s dead,” Ben says numbly. “Died last year. Heart attack.” 

There is unbearable silence on the other end of the line, and Ben wants to fling the damn phone against the wall and watch it shatter into a million pieces. 

Then he feels the warm weight of Rey’s small body press against his back as her strong, skinny arms wrap around his stomach and hold on tight. He closes his eyes and exhales, letting go.

The woman takes a trembling breath and does a bad job of hiding her tears. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah,” Ben says, “so am I.” 

Somewhere out there, that woman is his mother. She raised another him and sent him off to college and watched him become a firefighter and never thought about the kid who got in trouble with the cops before he started high school and ended up in prison before he finished it. 

He hangs up the phone and hands it back to Kylo Ren before she can say anything else. There’s nothing left to say between them.

“Babe,” he asks Rey, lifting her arms from around him so he can press a kiss to her beautiful, frail wrist. “Can you get me another whisky and make it a double?”

“Yeah,” she breathes and presses her lips to his mouth like she’s trying to press comfort and love into him. 

“Love you too,” he mutters against her lips and gives her pert little ass a smack to get her going.

When he looks over, Ren is standing shell-shocked between Hux’s knees, staring at the phone in his hand.

“She never told me,” he says quietly. He looks wrecked. “He’s really dead?”

“Yeah,” Ben says. “It happened real sudden.” An involuntary smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “The poker channel was still on when they found him.”

“He was a—”

“Trucker,” Ben interrupts before Ren can get the wrong idea. “Like me. Lots of time on the road and in motels.” 

Ren nods. He’s still staring at his phone like he’s not sure what to do with it until Hux takes it out of his hand, puts it down on the counter, and replaces it with one of the four shot glasses Rey has put in front of them.

They each take one of the remaining three and lift the glasses in a silent toast before they down them. Rey refills all four without Ben having to ask.

It takes most of a bottle of whisky to get back to somewhat normal by way of completely shit-faced.

Somewhere between talking about their mother’s ridiculous obsession with politics and their father’s self-destructive gambling habit, Rey’s shift ends and she joins them on the other side of the bar.

Rose, the girl who takes over for Rey, spends a solid minute just gaping at them in unconcealed fascination. Then she serves them a round of drinks on the house (which really means it’s coming out of her tips) and starts asking questions. Fuck-tons of questions, most of them totally inappropriate and fucking hilarious in their drunken state.

“Whose is bigger?”

“Ren’s,” responds Hux at the same time that Rey insists, “Ben’s,” both with absolute conviction.

The brothers burst out in nearly identical laughter. Rose giggles like it’s the best joke she’s ever heard.

“Okay,” she says with a grin. “Who lasts longer?” 

Hux and Rey glare at each other with the gleam of fierce competition in their eyes.

“Fifteen minutes,” she says.

Hux laughs like it’s nothing, but Rey flicks her hair over her shoulder and pins him with a look and her pointy little fingers held up in his face. “Three orgasms, without coming up for air.” 

Ben remembers that night. His jaw didn’t feel right for a week, but the way she had screamed his name was worth every minute of suffering.

Hux wrinkles his nose. “Disqualified on account of biological advantage.”

“Bullshit,” Rey protests.

“It’s not fair,” Hux insists, “and you know it. I could make you come six times in a row and there’d still be room for another. It’s not the same. How long does he last when you’re actually having sex?”

Rey rolls her eyes and purses her lips in a pout. “Does vaginal count or do I have to let him fuck my ass to make it a ‘fair comparison’ in your eyes?” she snarks.

Ben’s jaw drops as he stares at her. Would she really …

“I guess vaginal counts.” Hux shrugs.

Fucking killjoy. Ben glares at him over the top of Rey’s head.

“Twelve minutes.” 

“You timed us?”

Rey has the decency to look a little guilty. “It was from behind; the alarm clock was like right in my face.”

“Hah.” Hux sounds triumphant. “Seventeen.” 

Rey narrows her eyes in a vicious glare. “Bullshit.”

Hux closes his eyes with a shit eating grin and shakes his head. “Two margaritas and a cock ring, sweetie.” 

Ben raises his brows at his fucking twin brother in disbelief. Ren hangs his head with a look like he’s whipped and a shrug like he doesn’t really mind.

Rose is hanging over the counter in stitches. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” she babbles, fluttering her hands. “I’ve got another one.” It takes her a moment to get herself together and suck in enough air to get the words out. She breaks down multiple times, giggling and snorting at her own unvoiced thoughts. “Most naughtiest place you’ve ever done it.” 

Ben has to think about it, going over their encounters in his head. Aside from their regular trysts behind the building and in his rig, there was that time they did it in the pool of the motel down the road at three in the morning, the time she blew him in the movie theater, half-watching Infinity War, and their spontaneous quickie in the McDonald’s bathroom downtown when it took him a week longer to get back into town than either of them had thought.

“McDonald’s bathroom,” they say at the same time and share a fond smile.

Ren and Hux share a look. 

It’s fucking strange to see that expression of naked hunger and adoration on his own face, looking at someone who isn’t Rey. 

“Hux’s car,” Ren says at the same time that Hux says, “My car,” before they finish together, “here in the parking lot.”

“My parking lot?” Rey squeaks in outrage.

Rose nearly falls off the counter, giggling. “That is so cute.” 

On and on it goes. Ben’s mind slips, eyes losing focus from the alcohol. Rey keeps leaning back into him, rubbing his thigh in that way that makes him want to grab her hand an place it on his hard cock.

One barstool over, Hux is palming Ren’s cock through his jeans and looking at Ben like he wants to eat him alive.

Things blur and meld together and it’s really difficult to keep track of anything in the smearing, heated slide of a thumb pressing against his lips and into his mouth.

He sucks on the thick, hot digit and kneads a perky, soft breast, squeezing the pliant flesh between his fingers, and the only thing Ben can tell for certain is that he wants. He wants that hot, thick, relentless tongue in his mouth and the small, hard insistent fingers on his cock and the needy, mindless groan in his ear.

They’re a fucking mess of limbs and tongues, making their way to some car that is so damn soccer mom, Ben would look for the stick figure decal on the back window if it wasn’t for the fact that someone’s cupping his balls through the thick denim of his jeans and goading him into the space behind the hatchback.

His hands slide over smooth skin and rough cotton and hard muscle without any sense of where he is or what he’s doing. It’s all sensation and pleasure when a strong, pink mouth wraps around his straining cock and his lips suck on a pebbled nipple, and someone has their fingers wrapped around his neck, and there’s a finger probing at his asshole, and he’s watching himself suck another man’s dick and feeling a hot, wet, tight cunt around his cock, and coming, coming, coming for days as he stares into his own eyes wide with wanton ecstasy. 

He’s going to hell for this, and he knows it. 

When Ben kinda sorta comes back around, his arm is wrapped around Rey, one hand curled around her boob while her small, tight body is pressed to his front from his chest to his shins, her foot hooked around the back of his calf. He loves it when she does that. 

He buries his nose in her neck and inhales the mixture of sugar and spice that makes him hard when he’s alone on the road. His dick is soft, spent inside the cradle of her hot, wet cunt.

She moans when he tightens his arm and pulls her closer. Less than three feet in front of them, his own face stares back at him, unfocused and raw, in the arms of a guy with more rage than sense. 

Except, there’s no rage right now. Just peace and an expression so fucking open and obvious that it might as well be spelled out in big, glowing block letters across the pale face that hovers over his twin brother’s shoulder. 

Ben snorts and closes his eyes. He’s got a good six hours before he has to get back on the road, and he needs to sleep off the alcohol before he does, anyway.


End file.
